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Friday, September 28, 2012

*Another Anonymous Post. I love being part of someone's dirty secret ;)*

I miss you most at night. In the darkness. In my bed.

We make no sense.

But in the pregnant moments before your lips touched the back of my neck. In the time it took for your arms to wrap around me. In the split second between laying beside you and being entwined... I knew.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Great. I just had to open my mouth.
Lil crouched behind a tree, muscles burning, heart pounding. The
rain had run her make-up down her face, stinging her eyes and
blurring her vision. She’d kicked off her heels, tights laddered
from running through the forest shoeless. She still carried her
shoes, thinking to use them as weapons, possibly even to put them
back on if she ever got out of this god-haunted forest.

A twig snapped off to her right, and
she tucked herself lower, preparing to bolt, forcing herself to
breathe more slowly, quietly, through her mouth.

A hand, cool and strong, snaked around
her throat from behind, lifting her just under the jaw, turning and
pinning her to the tree she’d been hiding behind. She swung the
shoes at his head, and he caught her wrist in his free hand,
squeezing until she dropped them.

“Tag.”

The face in front of her was human in
shape, but sharper, impossible cheekbones, eyes blue enough to blind,
lips…

“Why do you run? You came to us.”
The words, soft, whispered like leaves in a high breeze.

A bar bet gone so very wrong, walk
into the haunted forest. Alcohol fueled bravery fled, Lil stared at
his lips in the darkness, licking her own.

“Well?”

“I… I thought you’d gone.”
Her voice squeaked through the dry, tight throat beneath his fingers.
Her pulse beat against those fingers, immovable, cool.

“Where would we go, daughter of
Eve?” He leaned in, nose to nose, forcing her to look into those
luminous blue eyes.

“I… don’t…”

He cut her off with a kiss, those thin
lips surprisingly soft, thin tongue invading her mouth, forcing its
way past her lips and teeth. Her body, already guitar string taut,
tensed further, then she relaxed with a whimper. She cautiously
responded, tongue darting up to meet his. He pulled back slowly,
smiling.

“A better question is why would we
go with a bountiful hunting ground so close? A word here and there,
from a devoted friend, and we have a night’s entertainment.”

“Friend? He knew?”

“Of course.” His free hand
settled on her hip, sliding up under her shirt to stroke warm skin
damp with sweat. “He knows our tastes so very well.”

“Our?” Her voice squeaked again,
and the hand squeezing just under her jaw, tightened its grip.

“Our.”

More shapes, male, female, tall, thin,
pale and dark, drifted out of the shadows. Hands tugged at her
clothing. Her captor pulled her forward and two of his companions
caught her hands, jerking them behind her back and tying them. She
didn’t resist.

“You wouldn’t be here if you
didn’t want this.” He held her face close to his, his breath
cool, smelling of cloves and autumn. “Tell me, who told you the
stories, Lilith? The stories that made your heart beat so fast when
you walked by the forest, wanting so badly to come in and see if we
would ravish you like in your mother’s books, the ones you read
when she was out.”

“You knew?”

“We’ve been waiting for you,
Lilith.” More hands now, holding blades, cutting her clothing
away, chill metal kissing her skin. As her clothing fell away, cool
fall air painted goosebumps across her flesh. The flat of a knife
blade slid under the sides of her panties, before they were tugged
from between her legs and dropped, to join the rags that had been her
club clothes on the ground. She shivered, nude, throat still gripped
in her captor’s hand. Other hands roamed over her body, pushing
her legs apart, sliding up into her cunt.

He kissed her again, teeth hard,
bruising, nipping her lips.

She bit him back, and his free hand
grabbed a nipple and twisted. She gasped. Someone pushed themselves
up against her ass hands gripping her hips.

“Well?” He looked over at whoever
had their fingers in her cunt.

“Dripping.”

The fingers withdrew, and Lil
squeaked.

“My Lord?” A masculine voice,
behind her.

“Not until she begs.”

The fingers returned, or perhaps
another set of fingers, to tease and stroke, pinch, slide into her,
goading her to the edge of orgasm and backing off. Her knees shook
and finally buckled. The hands followed as she dropped to the forest
floor, kneeling. Her captor let go of her throat and stepped back to
watch her.

Others, just as beautiful, and feral,
kissed her, bit, licked. Hands twined in her hair, pulling her head
back to expose her throat to kisses, tongues, teeth, grazing nips and
full bruising bites that broke the skin and drew beads of blood. She
gasped, and leaned into the bites, but kept her eyes on her captor’s,
and he smiled.

Time and again, she started to shake,
tremble, hips starting to bear down on the hands teasing her, and the
hands would back off to stroke elsewhere.

“One word, Lilith.” He crouched
in front of her. “Just one. Can you guess it?”

She looked down and swallowed hard.
Her body ached, muscles trembling. She licked her lips, and he
lifted her chin forcing her to look into those incredible, impossible
eyes.

“Please?”

The word itself, barely more than a
whisper, echoed through the night.

He grinned, teeth sharp and bright,
before standing and opening his trousers, his cock hard, pale as the
rest of him. She opened her mouth, and took him in with a low,
guttural moan, eyes closing. As cool as his hands, his skin smelled
of cool autumn nights and harvested fields. He nodded, and the
fingers in her cunt withdrew. The one behind her gripped her hips
tighter, bending her a little further forward, pushing his erection
into her from behind.

She wailed around the cock in her
mouth, body spasming as she came hard. They fucked her hard, brutal.
She pushed back against the cock in her cunt, stealing a breath
before her mouth was filled again.

Someone cut her hands loose, and she
raised them, gripping her captor’s thighs¸ taking him deeper,
hard. She opened her eyes to look up at him, and saw him, eyes
closed, lips parted, as he fucked her mouth. He glanced down, saw
her watching him, and smiled, before grabbing a handful of her hair
and pushing deeper into her.

He came, and she swallowed
convulsively. He stepped back, and a woman, nude from the waist down
stepped forward, taking his place. Lil leaned forward, her tongue
darting between the woman’s labia, warmer than her captor, but not
by much. Whoever fucked her from behind came into her and pulled
out. Slick fingers slowly pushed into her ass, while more fingers
teased her needy cunt.

Near sunrise, Lil shivered, nude,
alone in the trees, her body covered with bruises, bite marks and
scratches. Her cunt ached. So did her jaw and her ass. She crawled
to the edge of the trees and found the man from last night’s bar
bet waiting with her car, a blanket, and a full thermos of hot
coffee.

He ran forward with the blanket,
wrapped her in it, and helped her to the car. Once she was settled
in the passenger seat, sipping coffee, he grinned.

“Got my twenty bucks?” He winked
at her.

“Go fuck yourself.” She kept
sipping coffee, waiting for warmth to return to her body. Her
fingers and toes felt leaden. It hadn’t been that cold last night,
or had it? She stared out the windshield as they sat, watching the
sun rise over the hills.

“What are you thinking?” He
started the car, turning on the heater full blast. Lil leaned back
into the seat, closing eyelids too heavy to stay open.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

** I dunno if it's true, But I like to Imagine that Joe Tortuga is a demented Dungeon Master for an extremely sexually explicit D&D game that involves lots & lots of Cloaks of Stiffening and Gauntlets of Orgasm. If I'm wrong, Joe... don't tell me. Please, please, please... don't ever tell me.** That Feeling

I noticed that feeling Thursday on the drive home. You know thatfeeling? The one in the small of your back that makes you yearn, makesyou need. I used to need to be touched there, after a year of beinglonely, but these days I need more than a simple touch.

The day started bad, just by being a Thursday. As soon as I walk in,Walters gets in my face about the Jacobi account, even though it's hispeople that were screwing it up. Our boss broke it up and told us tofigure it out. That makes Walters smirk, which of course meant it wasmy problem. It was my commission after all, and we needed thatcommission for school supplies.

I felt the knot between my shoulderblades tighten. The weight ofeverything rested a bit more heavily on my shoulders.

I spent the morning figuring out the Jacobi shitstorm, and had thingsalmost okay when I got the call, "Judy needs braces, hon." I sighand call HR to see how much of that is covered, and how much I'm goingto have to find in our budget. The knot between my shoulderstightened a bit.

The small of my back starts to feel empty then, like a hole that needsto be filled. I notice it in one moment, but my day is going nuclearand I didn't have the attention for it. Nothing to do about it butdown another cup of coffee and make more phone calls.

Lunch? Let's not talk about lunch: about how the lines were long, howthey overcharged me and how got my order wrong. It was half edible; Idumped the rest into the trash. I thought about complaining, but theway my day was going I'd wind up in the emergency room. Or jail.

After lunch I met with Jacobi and ironed things out. They were willingto do the deal, but cautious. I couldn't get them to sign today, butmaybe tomorrow. It was a victory, but I didn't feel it. Instead, Iworried about them changing their mind. And then I knew I was goingto worry about it all night.Thinking I'd get another night of badsleep stressed me out more, making the weight on my back heavier andheavier.

I spent the rest of my afternoon making cold calls, hoping forsomething that'll land a commission, get us a bit more flow. Most ofthem hang up, and the few that do talk are merely being polite.That's the way it goes, but when I pick up my bag to head home I canfeel the tenseness in my back, in my whole body.

Just another day at the office.

I settle into the car, and for the first time today I can feel theache there. There's only one thing that fixes that ache. In the moodI'm in, I can't even hope that I'll get it. I text that I'm leaving,and drive home. My family greets me at the door; dinner is on thetable. We deal with the kids, get them put to bed, and I feel my backtense up even more. I'm worried this is not a good time for us.

I slip into the bedroom, strip off my clothes and get out the flogger.I can hear the shower going, and have some hope. I set the flogger onthe bed and close and lock our door, in case one of the kids wandersin. They haven't in years, but with my day... I don't want to takethe chance.

I slip into the shower, "I got out the good flogger."

"Bad day at work, hon?" I nod. It's the way it is, there's nothing to be said.

A quick kiss and I'm alone in the shower. I clean up quickly, andtowel myself dry. I step back in the bedroom, and move where I'mpointed to. Hand above my head, I feel the cuffs snap around mywrists and ankles as I'm bound to the door. I'm tense; I can't relaxat all. "Maybe this isn't a good time."

"Shhhh." The blindfold slips on, and I'm in darkness.

When the falls touch my back, it's just the tips. A light trail downmy sensitive back, enough to let me feel the soft leather. I shudderfrom the feeling, nearly coming I need it so badly. I arch and strainagainst the cuffs, pulling on the door where I'm tied.

My body relaxes then, and I give it up. My soul starts to dance inresponse to the flogging. The pace is rhythmic now; it's settled intoa pattern. I hang slack on the door, and the tears start flowing.

"That's it, that's it" I hear. "Give it to me." I lose myself in it:the flogger, the pain, the tears, the stress. Eventually it is allgone, and the next thing I know, I'm being unhooked from the door, andsettled into the bed. Our warm bodies wrapped up together, holdingeach other while we go to sleep.

And I know, so long as we're together everything will be all right.And that's the feeling I needed more than anything else.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

The
corset was pinching her ribs again. Jade navigated through the club
until she finally got to the bathroom. Thank God. No one was in there
for once. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her
almond-shaped-eyes were still ringed with kohl and her lipstick
wasn’t on her teeth. She wished she had something other than brown
eyes, but wearing contacts always seemed like cheating. She was a
little washed out, a little too pale, but not bad.

She
reached in front and untied her corset. The relief was almost
immediate. She pulled up the undershirt and looked at the bruises on
her ribs. Looking good held certain sacrifices, especially when
Mayhem liked corsets so much. Not that he’d ever paid much
attention to her, but a girl could hope.

She
looked at her breasts. They were full. They might not be as big as
some, but at least she could run without hurting herself. Guys always
seemed to want bigger breasts, but they didn’t have to live with
them.

Just
thinking about Mayhem made her nipples grow hard. Breathing hard, she
reached up and touched her right nipple. The electric zing went
straight through her body and made her wet. She closed her eyes. If
only she could have Mayhem once, she’d be a happy girl.

She
couldn’t stop thinking about him: What she’d heard about him, how
big he was, what it was like to lick the sweat off his stomach. It
made her knees weak.

But
she’d never get him. Mayhem was the god here. He had his choice of
any girl in the club. She was just one face in the hundreds that were
there each night.

What
she knew of him was that he’d started out as a boxer, ended up
making a crapload of money, and eventually opened The Inferno. The
Inferno was now one of the hottest clubs in New Orleans. Each room
was designed as one of the seven deadly sins. Mayhem’s favorite
room was Lust. So far, Jade had been too shy to enter there.

It
wasn’t the room so much, but the thought of getting close to
Mayhem. He was tall- over six-feet with short cropped hair that
usually had some sort of design carved into it. His blue eyes could
be playful or mean depending on his mood. His skin, while pale, was
always flushed red- at least it had been the times Jade had seen him
in person. It was good for Jade that he walked around without a shirt
most of the time. At least then she had the images that allowed her
to dream at night. Most of those dreams left her hot and panting.

She
knew her own ministrations would never be enough, so the dreams would
have to do.

After
righting herself, Jade left the bathroom, took a deep breath, and
entered Envy- the room was seemed to suit her best. She was just too
chicken to go into his domain.

Suddenly,
she felt a warm hand on her back.

“Now,
where have you been hiding?” the voice asked.

Her
heart hammered in her chest. She turned around. Her eyes met those
playful blue eyes. It was Mayhem himself.

She
swallowed. Too shy to speak, she pointed towards the bathroom.

He
chuckled and took her by the hand. “No more hiding.”

Then,
he led her through the room and into Lust. Unlike Envy where the
lighting and décor was green with various green-shaded velvet
cushions, Lust was a mixture of black and red.

He
led her to his table. It was a circular booth with the cushions made
of black quilted velvet. He glared at the women seated at the table.
They all shot Jade dirty looks, but didn’t do anything other than
that. They left, silently.

Then,
Mayhem motioned with his hand towards the table. Jade shyly slid into
the booth. Soon, he was seated beside her. The lights danced over the
bare flesh of his chest and down to the leather of his pants.

Jade
forced herself to stare at the table. She was too shy to do anything
else.

And
then, her chin was gently pulled away from the table.

“I’d
rather look at your face than the back of your head,” he said.

Jade
felt herself blush.

He
traced her face with his fingers. “You’ll not hide from me
anymore.”

Jade
shook her head.

He
began playing with the ties of her corset. She watched him,
mesmerized, as he untied it and her breasts sprung loose.

He
leaned forward and kissed her throat.

Jade
inhaled sharply.

He
raised her shirt and then froze. Gently, he touched a bruise. Jade
jerked slightly, the pain startling her.

“What
did that?” he asked.

“The
corset,” Jade whispered.

“If
it does that to you, why do you wear it?”

Jade
stared at him in awe. “Because I heard you like them.”

He
smiled and gently grabbed her breast. “This is what I like.”

He
lowered his head and placed her nipple in his mouth. Jade’s back
arched towards him. It felt so much better than she thought it would.

He
reached down farther and pulled up her skirt, then paused and
released her nipple. “May I?” he asked.

Jade
was just about overcome. Who said chivalry was dead? “Yes. Please.”

He
pulled off her panties and gently pushed her backwards into the
booth. Before she knew it, the slight stubble of his face was
tickling her thighs. She forced herself not to move. But, when he put
her clit between his lips, her hips bucked. She couldn’t help it.

He
chuckled. “A feisty one. I like feisty.”

Then,
he began licking her folds and Jade couldn’t stop quivering.

Her
eyes were closed, and suddenly all sensation stopped. She looked up
and Mayhem had a wolfish grin on his face.

“I
think that’s enough for now,” he said.

“What?”

He
leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You’re good enough to wait
for.”

Jade
was stunned, but happy. She wasn’t just a one night stand. This was
better. The promise of more to come was more than she’d hoped for,
and even if it was only a little at a time, she knew for once in her
life she was getting something she’d dreamt for, and it was
perfect.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

** GUYS GUYS GUYS. I LURV CLOVIA SHAW. Like... I would have her babies.... if she REALLY REALLY wanted me too ( gawd Clov, don't. Women in my family don't fare well post-baby) Go find her on Twitter and enjoy!**

You know how it is when you find
that perfect neighborhood comic book store: a halloo from behind the
counter when you walk in, every customer is known by favored reads if
not name, and a staff excited that you're
excited about something they love.

Well, I didn't. Go figure it'd be
the one place in the world where my boobs made me invisible.

Then I walked into Third
Eye Comics,
and for the first time, got a cheery "Hey, guys!" that
wasn't solely intended for my husband. The owner asked me (me!) what
I was into, made a few suggestions, mentally noted what I took home,
and engaged me about it when I came back in. What. I am both
delighted and suspicious the Universal Lucy is about to yank my
football away.

Man, did I get to kick the shit
out of that football.

Third Eye, by paying attention to
me as a fan and a buyer, by noting my tastes, has turned me on to
things I never would have found browsing by myself. One of my
favorites is Chew,
by John Layman and Rob Guillory.

The protagonist of this
award-winning series is Tony Chu, a police detective recruited into
the Special Crimes Division of the FDA after he snaps and gnaws off
most of a murderer's face. You see, Chu is cibopathic—he gets
psychic impressions from the food he eats. Whatever he eats.

You see where this is going.

In the Special Crimes Division,
he has to eat a lot of disgusting things. Though the squeamish are
never spared discomfort, there's something so engaging in the
presentation that I never failed to turn to the next page. The
professional cannibalism, though regularly played for laughs, is
never fetishized. Not by Chu. He's dedicated, meticulous, and tragic,
in that nibbling on a murder victim's toe isn't necessarily worse
than choking down a hotdog.

It is
funny. The juxtaposition of the plausible (after an avian flu
epidemic, chicken is outlawed in the U.S.) with the outright wacky
(chicken-frog hybrids and plants from space that taste like…chicken)
keep the overall tone light, and some of the most laugh-out-loud
moments come from panels where there isn't any dialog at all. And
then there's Poyo. Just trust me.

The basic template is a buddy-cop
police procedural in which the conspiracy nuts are right—the
pandemic 15 years ago was no avian flu—and a trusted mentor becomes
the villain. Within that comfortable frame, reader expectations are
tweaked, turned inside out, or fulfilled with sadistic glee.

"It's got heart!" is
kind of an odd thing to throw at you now. (I mean, spine-cripplingly
busty rival USDA agents with cybernetically enhanced animal
partners.) But this series has heart. Family entanglements are
depicted with an honest rawness at times, the main antagonist is not
evil, and a refreshingly sweet romance keeps Chu's life from being
unrelentingly bleak.

In addition to a storyline that
always has a fun twist, Guillory's artwork is stunning. Just as
familiar tropes are pushed into burlesque territory, the characters'
proportions are exaggerated beyond "pretty" or "ugly,"
and stock-character attributes played up until they become something
slyer. Chu's lean asceticism is contrasted against another cibopath,
Mason Savoy, who's drawn as massive, paunchy, excessive even in his
dandyish manner of dress and affected speech. Chu, who can eat only
beets in peace, is hunched under the responsibility of his talent,
while Savoy dominates their shared space, relishing every bite he
takes unfettered.

The colors are rich but subdued,
so any use of brighter hue for a sound or object really pops. Pacing,
sense of motion, the ebb and flow of tension all feel effortless.
Yeah, I dig the art.

Obviously, Chew
hit a geek-spot for me, and despite my heavily pruned ramblings
above, I realize these things are subjective. Some may not find it
funny, satisfying, or even entertaining.

Those people wouldn't know genius
if it gnawed off most of their face.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

If you’re a fan of violence, sex,
and great characters then you owe it to yourself to pick up a comic
book series written by Irish writer Garth Ennis. Even if you aren’t
a huge fan of comics Ennis is far from traditional, and has openly
voiced his hatred of American super-hero books. If you like that idea
read his Punisher Kills the Marvel Universe, where he has one
of his favorite non-powered characters kill every person in the
Marvel Universe.

The violence Ennis
enjoys writing about comes from the war comics he grew up reading and
he has written several. (War is Hell, Battlefields), Ennis is
best known for his runs on Marvel Comics’ Punisher, 2000
AD’s Judge Dredd, and DC Comics’ Hitman. He has
also worked on such titles as Hellblaizer, Midnighter,
John Woo’s Seven Brothers, and several standalone issues for
other high-end characters in both companies. Ennis is probably most
known and spoken of in mentioning his sixty-six issue western epic
Preacher, published through Vertigo comics. This story follows
a Southern preacher who is possessed by a creature known as Genesis
who gives him the ability to command people to do what he wanted as
he now speaks with the word of God. On his search to find out why God
has abandoned heaven, the journey leads the characters through
vampires, odd religious sects, and a family history that would make
Jerry Springer blush.

Avid readers will have heard of these
books by Ennis before. Readers may not have heard about the project
he is currently finishing up with though. With artist Darick
Robertson, Ennis has forged a new seventy-two issue series from
Dynamite Comics called The Boys. This is his attempt to
“out-PreacherPreacher” Ennis was quoted as saying,
in the levels of sex, violence, and general fucked up storylines. To
show how well he’s doing at the job, the first six issues were
published by Wildstorm, a division of DC Comics. After realizing what
Ennis was doing with the books DC cancelled the series and it was
immediately picked up by Dynamite and it continued from there.

The Boys exists in a world
where a drug called compound-V has created super-heroes that have
become corrupted and self-destructive in the light of their powers
and celebrity-level status. A company called Vought-American uses
comic books and press events to keep their heroes looking clean to
the masses who think they are out to protect them. That’s where The
Boys come in: A CIA-sanctioned group of compound V-empowered
agents. They watch and study the movements and activities of those
‘heroes’ who cross the line in an attempt to bring down
Vought-American and their prime super-team the Seven.

From issue one the brutality of the
series is on full display, as the first six issues delve into the
back stories of the different members of The Boys black-ops
team. Billy Butcher is the leader of the squad—a British former
military man has a personal grievance against the leader of the
Seven, the Homelander. Standing alongside Butcher is the Scotsman and
former conspiracy theorist Wee Hughie is the newest member of the
team and is brought into the world of the empowered children abruptly
when his girlfriend is killed by one of them moving at superhuman
speeds. Rounding out the team are Mother’s Milk, Frenchie, and the
Female who all have their own troubled pasts and reasons why they
fight groups like the Seven. If these teams do cross the line, it’s
up to The Boys to step in with extreme force.

As the series goes on the reader also
gets a chance to see things from the other side of the fence through
the character of Starlight, the newest recruit to the Seven. The
young innocent Christian super-hero is forced to perform oral sex on
members of the Seven to stay in the world’s most elite
super-powered group. She is forced to change her costume to show more
skin and even the other characters who have been wronged within the
group that would have reason to side with Starlight want nothing to
do with her. The two stories meet in full when Starlight and Wee
Hughie meet each other in the park and form a relationship, unaware
of who each other really is.

Through the seventy-two issues The
Boys face multiple teams of so-called heroes, saving the few
innocents they can while many die or become corrupted in front of
them. They travel to Russia to try and stop the black market trade of
compound-V before infiltrating the disgusting display of decadence
known as Herogasm. These exploits build up to the coming final battle
with the Seven and the globally dominant Vought-American.

This series is filled with sexually
explicit content that will leave your jaw open when you read it.
Ennis’ satire on the super-hero comic stretches into how he feels
real people with super powers would act; how they would play, do
drugs, and fuck. Women have to take meds just to be able to survive
an encounter with a man who possesses enhanced strength and stamina.
Sexuality is a big issue in the stories and is put to the test for
many of the characters who find themselves in precarious situations
that leave them scarred for life. The level of violence has no
measurement here as it surpasses the simple idea of gore and breaks
into a psychological near torture that is well written into the
story. No character is safe from the backlash that comes.

The Boys world is dark and
violent but what stands prominently, stitched not together but above
the blood and sex are the in-depth characters that he builds over
time. The main characters are well laid out and grow in their own
rights over the multitude of issues but even side characters are
granted an immense level of detail and emotion that sticks with the
reader. Even those that are only in a few issues of the story line
have an effect on the story and the team members who observe and
interact with them. Though The Boys is a team book each
individual feels like his own character and the villains are just as
sympathetic and well crafted as their counterparts. Readers will find
themselves sad to part with many of the characters that are not only
a product of the world they inhabited but a rich texture that added
to it.

With the series now approaching its
end Ennis has given it his all to out-do himself. Time will tell
whether or not The Boys will overshadow Preacher as his most
influential work but there is no mistaking that it is one of his
giants. Rights to a film version of the comic were picked up in 2008
by Columbia Pictures. There have also been several standalone story
lines of the series that further explore the pasts of these complex
characters. (Highland Laddie, Butcher, Baker, Candlestick Maker)
Though Ennis is ending the main series there are rumors of further
standalone series like these for the world he’s made. No matter
what Ennis decides to do many fans wait patiently anticipating what
this amazing and controversial writer will do next.

Monday, September 17, 2012

How the X-Men Orphaned Me To a 2000
AD Foster Home Where I Was Abused and Loved It

Toby McCasker

I did some growing up on a tiny island
country in the South Pacific called Vanuatu. You can drive around the
capital Port Vila, where I lived and wore no underpants ‘cos it was
fucking hot, in like three hours. That’s it. That’s the place.
It’s lovely. Everyone’s nice, and the natives are simply too
good-natured to even think about discriminating against the white
minority busy dodging tax on their fair island – most of whom are
too ignorant to pick up even the most basic of Bislama in return
(it’s a phonetic Creole language that’s only 5,000 words big,
ffs). This kind of racial harmony was a great thing to see at a young
age. Thing is, Vanuatu is also really boring. What’s a kid
to do but thieve imported Marvel comics from the local South African
mixed business? They all had the tops of their covers shorn off for
some reason, so for ages I thought I was reading about the many
misadventures of the A-Meii.

Thus my comic fixation started with the
Uncanny X-Men, circa early ‘90s. This was about the time Bishop had
come back from his crappy future to do some badass shit and Storm had
become the leader of the gross Morlocks. Good stuff, and I loved it
for years afterwards. Remember Magneto magnetising all the adamantium
out of Wolvie and then he got his own hairy series for a while where
whenever he popped his shitty bone claws he’d bleed liters?
Awesome. And then that asshole Cyber stomped on them one time and
they were all twisty and crazy for ages. The X-Men were the only
comic superheroes I liked, and could relate to. Everything else
seemed just a bit too hokey and I never understood how anyone gave a
fuck about some eligible bachelor flying around in his underwear or a
guy with the miraculous power to have tiny wings on his ankles. The
X-Men were and are real talk, despite the fact that if you take their
collective name out of context you wander into a transgender
surreality. They resonated with how much of an outsider my unorthodox
upbringing was totally making me.

And I had a massive crush on
Rogue, you don’t even know.

A coupla years later after relocating
to Melbourne, Australia, I was something like twelve years old and
X-lurve had gotten me into the habit of spending hours in the news
agency. I’d just go crazy for all the cool mags and shit they had
on the shelves, I don’t know what my goddamn problem was.
Invariably I’d end up lashing all my pocket money on anything that
looked awesome. One time I bought this thing I’d never heard of, a
soft-cover copy of a 2000 AD graphic novel called Indigo Prime:
Killing Time. It was full of Jack the Ripper brutally dissecting
prostitutes and all kinds of virulent psychosexuality and was pretty
much the most fucked thing I’d ever seen at that point, and it
scarred me for life. It was a cool scar, though. The kind you show
off to people you find attractive and then a knowing wink passes
between you, with sex very much on the cards. Speaking pretty
broadly, it spurred in me an attempted understanding of and a
definite appreciation for all things totally out there. If it weren’t
for Killing Time, I would be a relatively normal human being.
As it slouches, it went on to profoundly inform everything I became
enamoured with from then ‘til now: Underground metal, arthouse
films, disgusting VHS horror movies, even the way I dressed (which
was weirdly, and everyone always gave me shit for how strange I
looked and how long my hair was). I’d even go so far as to say my
worldview was altered by what became constant weekly exposure to 2000
AD’s magazine apropos. Certainly the inside of my head exploded
with thoughts and ideas and artistry that set me apart from 100% of
the schoolyard.Even the token smelly kid looked at me like I
was Ed Norton in a Fight Club carpark.

And I had a massive crush on
Durham Red, jesus ass, you are not even aware. No, seriously. Here is
a picture someone drew of her eating my dick:

It got to the point where I insisted I
was gonna rename myself “Finn” after I discovered “Rogue
Trooper” would probably be shortened to “Rog” by most lazy
Australians. Finn and Rogue Trooper were two of my favourite
stories alongside Strontium Dogs (post-Johnny Alpha era, The Gronk
forevs), Sláine, ABC Warriors, Outlaw, Flesh, Tyranny Rex (babe),
Cannon Fodder (shades of Killing Time here)… the list is
epic and always distinguished. To this day I don’t know who the
fuck Tharg the Mighty is. Mayhap he is an ideal like Batman
but with more intergalactic vernacular,but whoever has long
been the impetus behind this magazine was/is brilliant beyond
considerable measure. At some point in the mid-‘90s, they must’ve
worked out a crazy tie-in ad deal with EA for the release of Urban
Strike. Remember those games? You were in a helicopter and flew
around blowing shit up on your Sega, winching pixel men to safety
even worse danger. Part of this deal must’ve included “in-mag
crossover content” or whatever the fuck stupid ad people in
double-breasted wool suits talk about. 2000 AD ran with this so hard
I couldn’t believe it, putting out a five–episode Urban Strike
story that was totally brutal and subversive and all of its
characters fucking died horribly and I think the world also ended.
Here is a comic that can even make advertising obligations
awesome, over a period of five weeks, while clearly maintaining a
strong deficit of fucks with which to donate.

And without it, I’d have an all-year
tan, a vapid wife who used to be hot but is now fat, two shitty kids,
a white picket fence and a completely unnecessary Range Rover in the
backyard of our presentable house in a quiet suburb where everybody
says “Hey champ!” but really they’re all committing incest.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Ok... I don't usually do this... but... What the hell. This is my blog. I do what I want.

So... some of you know that I went to culinary school. Now I don't bake-- it requires to much precision and not enough *taste taste... hmmm... needs this! * But PIE! Pie I can do! Cuz PIE! is cookery with baking around the edges and you can BUY PIE SHELLS! :D

So I was discussing on the twitter how I love pie and how it is getting to be pumpkin/ sweet potato pie season ( I was also IRL eating gingersnaps and drinking root-beer and OMG if you want your taste buds to essplode, that is a helluva combo) ( but I digress) (which I do a lot)

ANYWAY... @BeasBookNook challenged me to make a pie... with out any of the regular spices ( she's allergic)

So I did!

Recipe ( ish)

3 cups of root beer concentrated down to about 1/2 a cup.

1 lb of sweet potato ( boiled then peeled)

1/2 cup condensed milk

2 eggs, whisked ( pro tip- to keep from having weird bits you can run the eggs through a mesh strainer. If you notice a lot of the egg isn't going through, you may have to add another egg)

I did not HUNT my Agent down like a wild animal. I also DID NOT follow him around like he was Justin Bieber and I was a horny 14 year old (or scarier-- 44 year old)

I did what I do.* As usual* I was asking twitter questions. Turns out LOTS of people like to give their opinions.

Social Media Lesson 1- Sharing is fine-- but asking other people what THEY think, feel etc will always win you more friends

Well... someone RT'd my question and he answered! Neat

This is the moment things could've gone VERY WRONG. I could have gone all OMGAGENTMANHAIILOVEYOUPLEASELOVEME! or I could've gone all *eep u r an agent and i am not worthy*

Instead I went with respectful, professional but remembering always that I was talking to a human being.

IKNORITE?

Social Media Lesson 2- Treat PEOPLE like PEOPLE.

We talked about business. I have a pretty realistic view of the publishing business. I also happen to be on a roll at the moment. I've also been doing a lot of work at making connections with a lot of wonderful people. That helps.

Social Media Lesson 3- Don't be a Crazy PersonSocial Media Lesson 4- Take advantage of momentumSocial media lesson 5- Connect with the people who you can learn from.
So... YEAH! I can haz AGENT! Go follow my WONDERFUL AGENT Eric Ruben on Twitter (don't pitch him there. That's an order.)